Soul Kiss by Scarlett Jacobs, Neil S. Plakcy Page B
Authors: Scarlett Jacobs, Neil S. Plakcy
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bunch of tortured poems on the table, and a science fiction short story about a planet with two suns where it never got dark so no one ever slept.
"I'll try tonight, I promise." I wondered if I could write faster now, too--I hadn't tried that. Would my reading and comprehension speed translate into being more creative too?
Miss Margolis led us through how to edit the science fiction story. "This is a really interesting idea," she said, to the boy who had written it, a nerdy kid in Robbie's class named Frank Brewer. "But you could do so much more with it. What do these people do with all their extra time? Think about the eight hours or so that you spend asleep. What could you do if you didn't have to sleep?"
"I'd play Xbox," he said.
Kate and Mindy giggled. "I'd read," Kate said.
"But your body needs sleep to rest up and regenerate your cells," Mindy said. "What do these people do instead of sleep to keep their bodies going?"
"Interesting ideas," Miss Margolis said. "Maybe they have a special diet."
"You know those lights they have, for people who live in Alaska and stuff, where they don't get sunshine?" Kate asked. "Maybe these people have special dark machines that do that."
"Frank? Are you thinking about these ideas?" Miss Margolis asked.
"I thought it was done," Frank said, looking down at the desk.
"Nothing creative is ever done," Miss Margolis said. "Sometimes you get it to the point where it gets published, but those ideas are still in your brain, and maybe you keep coming back to them. Look at the great works of literature--some of our most famous authors keep revisiting their ideas and themes throughout their work."
I thought about that on my way home. The stories I had written so far were all about a misunderstood girl who felt isolated. But I didn't feel that way anymore, now that I had met Daniel. Was it possible that my themes had changed?
After dinner I sat down at the computer to write a story for the literary magazine. But every time I wrote a sentence I hated it so much that I deleted it immediately. Had whatever got into my brain from Daniel's destroyed my creativity? Or was I just happy? Had all my desire to write arisen out of being miserable? Was I not really a tortured misunderstood artist, just an ordinary teenage girl whose body was now flooded with endorphins?
I couldn't consider those questions, so I went back to studying math. The next day, Daniel and I compared our answers in the library that afternoon and we both thought we had aced the test.
I knew Chelsea was jealous of my relationship with Daniel but I didn't realize how nuts she was until the next day in math class, when Mr. Iccanello complimented me and Daniel on getting every question correct.
While we were all working on a problem, Chelsea got up and went to the front of the classroom, and told Mr. Iccanello she thought Daniel and I were cheating. I even heard her say there was no way I could have gotten a hundred on the test--I just wasn't that smart.
That really hurt. Partly that one of my oldest friends had turned on me, and partly that she thought the only way I could have gotten a hundred was by cheating.
I had never been the best student in the class, but I had held my own, all through every AP class Chelsea and I took together. I never considered if I was smarter than she was, or if she was smarter than I was; we were both just smart.
"Melissa and Daniel, I need to see you both after school," Mr. Iccanello said just as the bell was ringing. "Please come to my office at the end of the last period."
Daniel had been busy with the problem Mr. Iccanello had assigned, so he hadn't noticed Chelsea go up to speak to him. On the way out of class I told him what I thought was going on.
"Why would she do that?" he asked.
I shrugged. "Because she's a bitch. She's always been one, it's just she's been nice to me because I've known her for so long."
"And now she turned on you because of me."
"Like I said, she's just a bitch.
"I'll try tonight, I promise." I wondered if I could write faster now, too--I hadn't tried that. Would my reading and comprehension speed translate into being more creative too?
Miss Margolis led us through how to edit the science fiction story. "This is a really interesting idea," she said, to the boy who had written it, a nerdy kid in Robbie's class named Frank Brewer. "But you could do so much more with it. What do these people do with all their extra time? Think about the eight hours or so that you spend asleep. What could you do if you didn't have to sleep?"
"I'd play Xbox," he said.
Kate and Mindy giggled. "I'd read," Kate said.
"But your body needs sleep to rest up and regenerate your cells," Mindy said. "What do these people do instead of sleep to keep their bodies going?"
"Interesting ideas," Miss Margolis said. "Maybe they have a special diet."
"You know those lights they have, for people who live in Alaska and stuff, where they don't get sunshine?" Kate asked. "Maybe these people have special dark machines that do that."
"Frank? Are you thinking about these ideas?" Miss Margolis asked.
"I thought it was done," Frank said, looking down at the desk.
"Nothing creative is ever done," Miss Margolis said. "Sometimes you get it to the point where it gets published, but those ideas are still in your brain, and maybe you keep coming back to them. Look at the great works of literature--some of our most famous authors keep revisiting their ideas and themes throughout their work."
I thought about that on my way home. The stories I had written so far were all about a misunderstood girl who felt isolated. But I didn't feel that way anymore, now that I had met Daniel. Was it possible that my themes had changed?
After dinner I sat down at the computer to write a story for the literary magazine. But every time I wrote a sentence I hated it so much that I deleted it immediately. Had whatever got into my brain from Daniel's destroyed my creativity? Or was I just happy? Had all my desire to write arisen out of being miserable? Was I not really a tortured misunderstood artist, just an ordinary teenage girl whose body was now flooded with endorphins?
I couldn't consider those questions, so I went back to studying math. The next day, Daniel and I compared our answers in the library that afternoon and we both thought we had aced the test.
I knew Chelsea was jealous of my relationship with Daniel but I didn't realize how nuts she was until the next day in math class, when Mr. Iccanello complimented me and Daniel on getting every question correct.
While we were all working on a problem, Chelsea got up and went to the front of the classroom, and told Mr. Iccanello she thought Daniel and I were cheating. I even heard her say there was no way I could have gotten a hundred on the test--I just wasn't that smart.
That really hurt. Partly that one of my oldest friends had turned on me, and partly that she thought the only way I could have gotten a hundred was by cheating.
I had never been the best student in the class, but I had held my own, all through every AP class Chelsea and I took together. I never considered if I was smarter than she was, or if she was smarter than I was; we were both just smart.
"Melissa and Daniel, I need to see you both after school," Mr. Iccanello said just as the bell was ringing. "Please come to my office at the end of the last period."
Daniel had been busy with the problem Mr. Iccanello had assigned, so he hadn't noticed Chelsea go up to speak to him. On the way out of class I told him what I thought was going on.
"Why would she do that?" he asked.
I shrugged. "Because she's a bitch. She's always been one, it's just she's been nice to me because I've known her for so long."
"And now she turned on you because of me."
"Like I said, she's just a bitch.
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